


You'll Be The King I Need

by notoriouswriter



Category: Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga (2020)
Genre: Alexander and Kevin are in love, Alexander and Mita could destroy the world, Bisexual Alexander Lemtov, Boys In Love, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, and my life for that matter, and you can't change my mind, as a European I hate this movie, as a person I love Alexander and Mita, mother russia does not agree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26173774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notoriouswriter/pseuds/notoriouswriter
Summary: "“Mother Russia does not agree.”These words stuck around in Alexander Lemtov’s head long after his glorious After-Show-Party and victory celebration had come to an end. He had always known this, of course, but saying it out loud to Mita like that made it seem all the more real."Even though Alexander Lemtov likes to pretend that nothing could breach his marble facade, there's some things that can. And his love for his home country that is in direct conflict with his love for a certain creative director is definitely one of them.
Relationships: Alexander Lemtov & Mita Xenakis, Alexander Lemtov/Kevin Swain, Sigrit Ericksdóttir/Lars Erickssong
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	You'll Be The King I Need

**Author's Note:**

> You might have already read the tags, but here we go again:  
> I have a lot of issues with this movie and I've been very vocal about that ever since it first came out in June, but I absolutely fell in love with Alexander Lemtov and Mita Xenakis (I mean, how can one not?) and I wish they had more screen time. Anyways, that is why I decided to write this. I've already written chapter two and I don't really know how long this will end up being, so bear with me!
> 
> PS.: A big 'thank you' goes out to my personal linguistic genius Michi for trying to help me with writing accents. I hope I didn't do too bad!

_“Mother Russia does not agree.”_

These words stuck around in Alexander Lemtov’s head long after his glorious After-Show-Party and victory celebration had come to an end. He had always known this, of course, but saying it out loud to Mita like that made it seem all the more real.

_“Mother Russia does not agree.”_

That meant he could either start being himself unapologetically, well, even more than he was already, and never go back to his home, his family, or he could just keep hiding a substantial part of himself and bury his desires and needs deep under layers of wealth and lavish luxury. Maybe he really could buy a yacht!

_“Mother Russia does not agree.”_

It pained him that he had not had the balls to sing the song how he intended to, that he couldn’t bring himself to publicly admit his feelings for the one he truly loved, right there on stage at the biggest song contest of the world. He was a coward, that’s what he was.

_“Mother Russia does not agree.”_

With a frustrated sigh Alexander made his way through blacked out people on the floor until he reached the bar and poured himself a double of the first bottle he could grab, although really it turned out more like a double double. He downed it with one swift motion, barely even scrunching his nose at the burn.

_“Mother Russia does not agree.”_

_“Mother Russia does not agree.”_

_“Mother Russia does not agree.”_

The loud sound of a heavy-bottomed whiskey glass hitting the floor and breaking into a thousand pieces pierced the silence and snapped Alexander Lemtov back into reality. Suddenly the large room felt infinitely too small and he could barely breathe. He stumbled towards the door, desperate for fresh air, probably hitting a few people on the way, who were luckily too drunk to even react with more than a grunt.  
He held onto the railing of the balcony like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood. Edinburgh’s lights blurred together to an unidentifiable clump and he still felt like someone had dropped an anvil onto his chest, like in the cartoons. His breathing grew a little calmer but then, before he knew it, tears streamed down his face. And that’s how he stood there, for who knows how long, knuckles white, cheeks wet, and then he started singing, very softly, his Eurovision song, the way it was meant to,

“I’ll be the king you wanted,

you’ll be the king I need,

and on, and on, and on, and on…”

“You should have sung it like that on stage”, a voice suddenly said next to Lemtov, startling him more than it should have. It was Sigrit, who put one of her arms around the tall Russian man’s shoulder, “Did you write it for Kevin Swain?” Eyes wide, Alexander Lemtov turned his head towards Sigrit and got out a strangled, “How…? Did Mita…?”, before he had regained at least a fraction of his usually flawless façade, “I have no idea what you talk about.” The Icelandic singer just smiled softly and squeezed Alexander’s shoulder, “Mita did not have to say anything, I have my two eyes in my head, but I think even a man who is completely blind could see it.” Sigrit really was a lot more intuitive and smarter than Alexander had initially given her credit for. It was as if she could see right through all the walls he had built to keep people from seeing how broken he was on the inside, which, up until a few months ago, had worked pretty successfully. But now Sigrit was standing there, looking at his face, that was red and puffy from the tears, seeing right into his soul and he wanted nothing more than to tell her everything.

He sighed and directed his gaze back towards the lights of Edinburgh and began talking, his voice unusually soft and shaky for someone who prided himself in being a pinnacle of confidence. “I did…write it for him. We have known each other for a while and nothing ever happened…until three months ago. I never wanted to go this far because I knew…I knew I could not hold my emotions in…” Alexander stopped, desperately trying to hold back tears, and Sigrit gave him an encouraging nudge, “And then what happened?”, she asked, her tone warm and understanding, lacking any judgement. Lemtov looked up to the sky in an attempt not to openly sob before he continued his story; “I did…sleep with him, but then I said to him”, his voice broke, “I could not do it again because I am not gay.” “But you are?”, Sigrit questioned. With a small dismissive gesture the Russian responded, “Bisexual, actually, which makes hiding a lot easier. I still enjoy sleeping with women, as they do with me, of course, I just don’t as much as with…”, he stopped, trying to swallow the knot that had formed in his throat, so Sigrit finished the sentence for him, “Kevin Swain” Lemtov just nodded, unable to look at the blonde woman holding him, silently crying tears that he had been holding back for way too long, while his chest ached, reminding him that matters of the heart had given him nothing but pain this far.

They stood there for a few minutes with Sigrit repeating the words “It will be okay.” over and over again, until she yawned deeply. At that point Lemtov had calmed down enough to look her in the eye and pull his lips into the tiniest little smile, “It’s late, go to sleep, Sigrit. I am going to be fine, I always am.” For a few seconds she looked at him and then she grinned wonkily, “I know you will. And if not, come talk to me, okay?”, to which Lemtov just nodded.

Then Sigrit was gone and Alexander was on his own again. It was some time in the early AMs, but he couldn’t even think about sleep. All he could think about was Kevin Swain, the man that had stolen his heart with his stupid brown eyes and stupid wide grin and his stupid accent, god, his accent. It was all just so incredibly stupid. Of course Alexander Lemtov had to fall in love with the most overtly flamboyant and surprisingly naughty Brit instead of someone like Sigrit. Life could have been so easy, he even had the chance to actually want to be with a woman, but no, the person he had fallen for was a man, which, by every definition, could destroy his life in his beloved home country.

_“You’ll be the king I need.”_

Maybe, he thought, just maybe there was a chance that he could convince Kevin to keep it on the down low, but who was he kidding, that was not the type of person Kevin Swain was, and to be frank, it was also not the person Alexander Lemtov was. They were both colourful and loud presences, each in their very unique way, there was no chance in hell that they could keep it a secret, if there was something going on between them. A few more deep breaths later, Alexander almost felt ready to turn around and go back inside, when suddenly he felt someone step beside him. “Sigrit, I told you, I will be fine, you can-“, the words got stuck in his throat when he turned his head and did not, as expected, see the blonde Icelandic singer, but the tall figure of none other than Kevin Swain.

_“You’ll be the king I need”_

That was what a heart attack must feel like. Either his emotions manifested in physical pain or Alexander just really was havingone, he couldn’t tell. All he could do was stand there, mouth agape, frozen mid-sentence, while his heart felt like it was cramping up right there in his chest. How long had he been there? How much did he hear? All those questions and no answers, just Kevin Swain unwaveringly staring at the city Alexander had stared at mere moments ago. “Sing it for me.”, Kevin demanded, voice shaking. “Wha-“, Alexander started, but the other man interrupted him, “Sing it like you intended it to be sung, please. For me.” And so Alexander sang his song as it was meant to be sung for the second time that night, but this time he was nervously eyeing the man he wanted in his life more than anything in this world, if only all this wasn’t so complicated.

“I’ll be the king you wanted,

you’ll be the king I need,

and on, and on, and on, and on…”

Before he could continue, Alexander felt a hand on his cheek and then suddenly, too fast for him to even register, Kevin Swain’s lips were on his and they were kissing whichh quickly turned into them full on making out on the balcony. It was usually way too public of a setting for Alexander to enjoy something like this, but now, kissing the man he had been pining over for almost as long as he’d known him, made him throw every last piece of caution into the wind. It felt like a thousand fireworks were exploding in his chest.

_“You’ll be the king I need.”_

There was a lot of blushing and deep sighs and some tasteful groping, until Lemtov’s hands finally found their way onto the Brit’s back, holding onto it almost as desperately as he had held onto the railing earlier. When they finally broke apart, a smile spread upon Kevin Swain’s face, but it immediately started to get overshadowed by a worried expression when he saw fresh tears welling up in Alexander’s eyes. “What is it, darling?”, Kevin asked, thumb gently stroking over the Russian’s cheek. Slowly and very shakily he responded with what might just be the hardest words he’s ever said, “Kevin, I…I can’t.” A slow blink, a supposedly stoic look, that was immediately undermined by a quivering lip and tears rolling down his cheeks, and eyes that just seemed to scream the singular question on Kevin Swain’s mind, “Why?”

_“You’ll be the king I need.”_

“My country is not kind to people like us”, Alexander said, grabbing Kevin Swain’s hands, hoping he could convey all the pain he was feeling right that moment. “You can stay in England…with me”, the artistic director whispered, voice barely there, tears making his cheeks glisten in the lights of the city. A little scoff escaped Alexander’s mouth. Mita had proposed the same thing, well, minus the romantic connection, and it surprised him how people seemed to not understand this, “Kevin, I would love to, but it is not just me I am having to think about. I have family! If I could never go back to Russia, it would break my mama’s heart. And me going public with this,”, he made a gesture between the two of them, “us, it would put her in harm’s way. The only way for us to become one is if we kept it secret, but that wouldn’t work, I would never want to do that to you-”

_“You’ll be the king I need.”_

“Alexander”, Kevin Swain interrupted the Russian’s sudden stream of words, “We need to try. I know it will be impossibly hard but I need you in my life…more than you already are. I want more, so much more, but if that’s how it has to be, so be it. Please, Alexander.”

_“You’ll be the king I need.”_

_“You’ll be the king I need.”_

_“You’ll be the king I need.”_

And then they were kissing again. It felt different than the last time. It was filled with hope, hope for a potential future together, hope for more of what they were doing right this moment, hope for more, and with so much love. Neither of them would say it that night, but they both were already so undeniably and deeply in love with each other. Alexander broke the kiss to look into Kevin Swain’s eyes, that impossibly looked even more beautiful than usual, all red and puffy but sparkling with excitement, and said, in the softest of whispers, “Okay, let us try.”, before leaning in for another kiss and escorting Kevin Swaine towards the master bedroom.


End file.
